


Prompt: Cecil and Carlos’ first formal introductions (at a bar.)

by Kozmotittspitchiner



Series: Cecilos Prompts [1]
Category: Cecilos - Fandom, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, What the hell is the pairing tag for Cecilos over here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:37:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kozmotittspitchiner/pseuds/Kozmotittspitchiner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil and Carlos’ first formal introductions (at a bar.) that leads to Cecil giving Carlos his business card. Bonus points if Cecil uses his smooth, yet sinister radio persona, but in his brain he’s all “OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG SO PERFECT”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prompt: Cecil and Carlos’ first formal introductions (at a bar.)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt given by Anon on Tumblr. I twisted it around to be from Carlos' POV, though.

I honestly had no intention of entering that bar, whatsoever. It was late, town meeting had been more exhausting than I thought it could possibly be {the people of Nightvale seem stubborn in their own way} and I still carried most of my luggage.

Most, because I don't know where the rest of it went.

I still have no idea where my autumn sweater, substitute rubber boots and EMF set are. I found the rest of the rest in front of my apartment door, neatly packed up and with two donuts on top.

But my research team was eager to go, apparently thinking that there was nothing better than one or two glasses of something alcoholic after a day like that. To be frank, I'd usually agree to a statement like that, but since I was still skeptical of the overall town and its people's habits, I wasn't sure whether my colleague was being humorous when he said Come on Carlos, one drink won't kill you! or whether he had been testing said liquids and was positively consoling me.

I decided to go for the safe route and drank the water I bought on the airport, sitting amidst my work mates, a few people from town meeting that wanted to come, an unsettling figure that no one spoke about and a man that soon would introduce himself to me over a colorful cocktail: Cecil Baldwin. I obviously didn't know his name at the time, but had noticed him earlier.

He had seemed especially attentive to my welcome words at town meeting. And when I say attentive, I mean a flustered looking stare that was accompanied by him whispering words about something I couldn't understand. Now, though, the earlier bewildered expression was replaced by what I would humbly call – intrusive professionalism. He told me that he was the voice of Night Vale Community Radio, where he doesn't only work as the announcer, but also as a journalist. Which would involve a lot of research on his part, what with my profession of a scientist, practically made us colleagues.

Nimble fingers shoved a bowl of peanuts into my direction, while he was leaning closer to smoothly inquire: “Did you know that the average child will eat 1,500 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches before he or she graduates high school?” To which I replied by shaking my head and raising my brows in question of the intention of his inquiry. “No? Well, you'll be surprised to know that it takes about 540 peanuts to make a 12-ounce jar of peanut butter.”

I shrugged. Because I really didn't care. He paused, pressing a finger to his lips as though he was musing. “How healthy can a portion of 810000 peanuts per child be?” he asked, looking at me from expectant eyes. Since I wanted to escape his stare, I decided to finally open my mouth. “Research studies have shown that peanuts contain high concentrations of poly-phenolic antioxidants.” I said, picking up once of them to hold it between my thumb and index finger. “Primarily p-coumaric acid.” I popped said peanut into my mouth, disregardful of the fact that I wasn't too sure about its origin. I hadn't eaten since I got into my plane in the morning. I chewed, swallowed, and continued, although I noticed that my strange companion had begun focusing my mouth in a way that made me uncomfortable. “This compound has been thought to reduce the risk of stomach cancer by limiting the formation of carcinogenic nitrosamines in the stomach.”

“Oh.” he replied, but I could have sworn the actual movements of his mouth translated into something along the lines of irrevocably in love with. “But I am not a doctor to consult about a healthy nutrition.” I added, hoping he would reply with something a little more coherent.

“Of course you aren't.” he said, comfortingly, “But if there is ever anything you would like to consult me, or tell the townspeople about, feel free to do so.” And I started to understand how he had acquired the position of the announcer – his voice was melodious as he spoke, pitch varying in comfortable spheres.

When I turned away to hold my hand in front of my face and yawn, I was almost sure I heard him add beautiful Carlos, but when I regarded him again his face was blank of such emotion and a business card was lying in front of me, tugged halfway underneath the bowl of conversation-starting-peanuts. “Call me any time.” he hummed and before I could read the name on the business card, he extended his hand for me to shake. “Cecil Baldwin at your service.”

He held my hand a little too long for it to be casual. “And I mean it when I say any time.”

We exchanged a few glances and I had to ask him to let go of my hand before my colleagues and I took our leave, accompanied by a tall man called Rico, who'd live next door to us and who'd treat us for free dinner the next day. Cecil remained sitting where I met him, sipping at a rather large and strange looking cocktail through an ever stranger looking straw.

His business card has remained in the pocket of my coat ever since.


End file.
